Page 99 of Heart So Hollow

She’s terrible at masking her hopefulness and the uptick in her tone immediately turns my anxiety to irritation.

“No,” I start washing my hands for no reason, “it’s girls’ night.”

“Oh.” Hannah pauses for a moment with a hint of skepticism.

She stares at me blankly and then looks me up and down.

“What?” I shake my hands into the sink and reach for a paper towel.

“Nothing,” Hannah’s eyes drop as she turns back to the mirror, shaking her head dismissively, “I saw you with some guys. I just figured Bo would be here, too. Is the one with the dark hair a friend of yours?”

My chest tightens and I clench my jaw. An intense anger builds, fueled by the last shreds of panic from miraculously escaping whatever the hell happened—or was going to happen—back in that hallway. I stare into the mirror at my reflection and take a deep breath, knowing exactly what Hannah’s implying.

I’ve never hit anyone before, but tonight might be the night.

I crumple up the wet paper towel and toss it in the trash can under the dispenser, “If you want to say something, just say it.”

I unzip my green leather crossbody and reach into the interior pocket, retrieving my tube of Maple Sun. I jerk the top off and drag it over my lips, glaring at Hannah’s reflection. She looks up and opens her mouth to fire off another asinine comment, but stops short, her eyes trained on my lipstick. I turn to her with a venomous smirk, rubbing my copper lips together.

Hannah plants one hand on the vanity and the other on her hip, “I know you were in my apartment,” she seethes.

“Yeah,” I brush her off, snapping the top back on the lipstick tube, “I was there with Hildy when she checked on your cat.”

I don’t know whether she realizes I came back later, but there’s no way I’ll ever admit that unless she saw me with her own eyes.

“Are you mad I stole my own lipstick back?” I continue. “Speaking of which, why are you coming in my house and leaving shit in my closet?”

Bowen gets creepy pictures, I get creepy drawings, we’re a match made in heaven.

“It’s Bo’s house,” Hannah replies, adjusting the waist of her pants.

I cock my head, disregarding her dig, “Does Bowen know you like sneaking into our house and stealing my stuff? Do you like to play dress-up and pretend you’re me or do you do black magic rituals with them? Or,” my voice gets louder as I continue, “do you like sneaking over in the middle of the night to play with rocks in the driveway?”

She jerks her head up, “Does Bo know you like hanging on other guys when he’s not around?” she snaps.

I’m not in the mood for this. Wells the creep almost assaults me in a dark hall, some phantom flies out of nowhere and throws him into a closet, and now Hannah’s accusing me of sleazing around the bar with strange men. And yeah, maybe that’s how it looks, but it’s not like she cares enough to find out the truth.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” I zip my purse and swing it over my hip, “Run and tell Bowen I’m with other guys just to be a salty bitch because he won’t fuck you.”

Hannah gazes at me, her scornful smile unchanged. But the muscles in her neck twitch as soon as I utter those words, just like the moment Hildy introduced me to her at the wedding. But she holds onto her composure, running her tongue over her teeth and slowly turning to the mirror.

“Anymore.” She drags her middle finger across the edge of her lower lip, sharpening the line of glistening apricot gloss.

Before I can say anything else, the door to the other stall swings open and bangs against the wall, giving me a start. Barrett saunters past the door, seemingly oblivious to the both of us. I’m so irritated, I forgot she was even in the restroom with me.

“Excuse me.” Barrett brushes against Hannah’s chest as she steps in front of the sink, nudging her aside.

Hannah flinches and takes a step back, caught off-guard by the sudden intrusion. Barrett glances over her shoulder at me.

“Are you talking about Bowen Garrison?” She waves her hand under the faucet to trigger the motion sensor and starts washing her hands, deadpan as she waits for an answer.

“Yeah?” I drag out the word, watching her with curiosity.

“Who are you?” Hannah barks, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

Barrett shakes her hands into the sink and reaches past me for a paper towel. She takes her time blotting her hands and then turns to Hannah, eyeing her with condescension.

“I’m Barrett Halsey,” she looks Hannah up and down, “who the fuck are you?”

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